Coffee Beans
by qsmadness007
Summary: The Vctf faces various problems, some which involve coffee. Final chapter now up.
1. Default Chapter

Coffee Beans  
By Ohfan007  
  
Author's notes and Disclaimer: This story has no relation with the first Profiler story I wrote. This is dedicated to God, the readers, the cast, and my beta reader, Jordan_Radcliffe, I think she is still my beta reader for my profiler fics.Most of these characters belong to Sanders, and Moses, they do not belong to me, and I do not write this to make profit off of them, but for mine, and others amusement. They should be in reasonable good condition when I return them. Also, Starbucks does not belong to me, neither does Guys and Dolls.  
  
  
Part 1  
Richard Warren, his black, just below the ear hair, skipping madly around his petit face, walks into the spacious living room of the apartment he shares with his roommate.boyfriend, George Fraley, holding an impatient beeper that is letting off more energy in its tiny little beep than a fire engine does when racing down the street.He walks to the outer left wall, towards the computer desk, gazing at the screen which features a movie trivia site, as he walks besides the occupant of the computer chair in front of the desk.  
  
He carefully removes the small green headphones from the occupant's head, and sets it on top of the green, portable Cd player in front of him. This brings to him a wave of music from the Broadway show, "Guys and Dolls," and two inquiesitive brown eyes gazing up at him.  
  
"Your beeper, Georgie-Porgie." Rich says handing it to him.  
  
George takes it, and blinks hard at it for a second, as he tries to bring himself out of the world he goes into when on a computer.He looks at the little screen sternly for a few seconds, before saying. "Oh, I have to call work."He gives Richard a weak smile.  
  
"I know, you should really keep that on you, it woke me up, while I was trying to nap." Richard returns his smile with a playful glare.  
  
"Oh, I am sorry. I forgot I took it out of my pocket when I came in. I'll try not to do that again, Rich." George's eyes light up with a suggetive gleam. "Why don't you go back to bed, then, and I'll see you when I get home."  
  
"Oh, I am going back to bed, but you will not see me when you get home."  
  
George stares at him blankly for a few minutes, when he remembers something, and his eyes fix into an apologetic look. "Oh, right, you are going to visit your parents for a few days. Sorry.I must be losing my mind, today."  
  
"It's okay, Geo, why don't I shut this down, and you go call." Rich nods towards the computer.  
  
"Sure, thanks, you're a doll." George pushes back the chair, and walks to the phone on the other side of the room.  
  
Rich takes the mouse besides the CD player, and with a few clicks shuts down the computer. In a few seconds, the "It is now safe to shut down your computer." Flashes on the monitor, and Rich hits the power button on the monitor, and tower.He listens to the low music coming from the CD player, humming along with it.  
  
George comes back over towards him. "Heigh Ho,Heigh Ho, It's off to work, I go.Have a safe trip, and behave yourself, and I will see you when you get back. Sorry, I can't drive you to the airport, like I promised. Oh, And don't let your arms get to tired." George says, giving Rich a strong hug.  
  
"What do you mean, don't let my arms get to tired?" Rich cuddles into George's chest for a second, he stares up at George with a confused look.   
  
"When you fly." George says with a laugh, disengaging the hug.Rich gives him a half smile. George gives Richard a peck on the check and heads for the door.Richard hears the door open, and turns to head back to his room to finish his nap-since his flight takes off at 10 pm, and he can never sleep on planes, when he hears footsteps coming back. George gives him another peck on the cheek, and grabs his walkman. Rich returns the peck on the cheek before George heads out again. George gives him a smile, slips the earphones on his ears, and heads out singing,"Sit down You're Rocking the Boat." The door closes cutting off George's sweet tenor voice, a few seconds later.  
  
George continues to sing, but softer, as he walks down the hall to the elevator. He waits a few seconds for it to come up,after pushing the button, then hops inside. Mrs. Levitt from across the hall, who is stepping out,carrying a sack of groceries, gives him a nod of Hello. He nods back, still singing, as the doors start to close, he hears her mumble something about "Crazy neighbors." and laughs , as the doors close with a click, knowing she had mistaken the singing for talking to himself, which he had done before once before when they had ridden up on the elevators together.   
  
He continues to sing as the elevator begins its trip down, wondering why the elevator had suddenly taken on the scent of strong Romanian Cabbage since he had last ridden on it. He laughs, realizing Mrs. Levitt must be going to make her infamous Sauerkraut and onions soon. He hopes he has to work late tonight, just so he isn't asked to try it, if he gets in before the Levitts go to bed. He wonders how Mr. Levitt can stand that. He shakes his head, he had always found the couple a little strange, Mrs. Levitt with her petit frame, and peculiar blue hair piled in a bun, and Mr. Levitt with his tall, slouched frame, and his bizarre affiction for Saffron Jack in the boxes. He laughs, who was he to judge, it wasn't exactly like he wasn't consider strange. He was in fact a jewish computer genius who happened to not like women, which many people found odd, he almost had three strikes against him in some people's books.This makes him laugh more, and he has to stop singing. The doors click open, and he steps out, heading to his car, a humoured smile on his face."Today should be an interesting day." He thinks to himself.  
  
(more to come) 


	2. ch 2

Part 2  
  
George slides into his chair in front of the computer, setting his mug of coffee in front of the computer. Bailey slides him a folder, and a computer disk to him. George catches them. He puts the disk in the computer, and with a few keystrokes brings up the information on the giant screen behind the computer.George nods a hello to Grace and Sam, the only other members of the team sitting at the table right now.  
  
"Are we going to go ahead and start, -or- wait for Nathan and John to get back?" Grace asks.  
  
The elevator doors slide open, and John and Nathan slip into the command center.   
  
"Okay, let's begin." Bailey says, as John and Nathan take seats. Bailey slides them folders. "What we have here are three victims, decapitated, there bodies were found all in generally the same area.Give us the stats on the victims, Georgie."John throws a glare in George's direction. George shrugs.  
  
"The first victim, Lisa Staten, Africian American, aged 19, cheerleader, Georgia State Universty No police record, straight A student.Involved in the Honor Society, the German Club, and Phi Beta Delta, a sorority for the elevation of African American Females. A member of the Oprah book club, worked part time at the college bookstore. Moved here from Miami, Flordia.Engaged  
to a Tony Morris, a football player. Found on the football field, her head under the goal post, and her body in the middle of the bleachers."George says, pulling up the pictures that go along with it, and her information. "Second victim, Kyle McKinley,aged 18, Dropped out of high school last year, charged with minor vandalism in Melbourne, Fl, where he last resided. Moved to Atlanta, five months ago, works at Little Jo's Ponderosa, as a busboy, no connections to the university,that can be found right now. A member of the NRA, and the little country store, And last but now least, Shelly Wagner, aged 65, ballet instructor at the Petit Pied dance studio, lived in Atlanta all her life, husband Thomas, died two years ago, and her son, Micheal, lives in San Francisco. She was a former bookkeeper for one of the deans. No criminal record, etc, etc." George runs through the pictures.  
  
"Did you say her son lived in San Francisco? Maybe it has...."John starts. An evil smile on his face.  
  
"Hey, don't make speculations." George comments. "Did you not hear me state that Staten was engaged to a Tony Morris? If, you are trying to go for that angle?" He gives John a glare.  
  
"I was just stating maybe the killer...."He pretends to act innocent.  
  
"I know what you were stating, John."  
  
"I don't think your right, John, this doesn't appear to have a sexual motive behind it.Her son living in San Francisco may have nothing at all to do with the case.So, don't make this case some excuse for you to begrudge George's sex life." Sam scolds.  
  
"George, see if you can find any commonalities.John, Nathan, you will begin interviews, Grace, Sam, and I will go check out the scene."Bailey says, so, he doesn't get an argument on his hands.  
  
George takes a sip of his coffee, his face sours, "Who made...."He is interrupted as the phone rings, George, closest to it, picks it up,"VCTF, Fraley?... Bailey for you."   
  
"I'll take it in my office. I'll meet you guys at the campus, as soon as possible." Bailey heads for his office.  
  
He picks up the phone, he hears the phone click on the other end. "Hello...oh, I see... I don't know...oh, I see... No way out of it. .. Okay, Thank you, Bye." He pulls a cigar out of the box on his desk, and bites off the tip, and lights it. He grabs his jacket and heads to the crime scene.  
  
  
  
(more to come) 


	3. ch. 3

Part 3  
  
George yawns, and stretches, as he pushes back from his chair to get himself another cup of coffee. He needs to clear his head, his head is spinning from all those facts and figures going across the screen.He watches the black liquid flow into his mug, as he pours.  
He thinks maybe now will be a good time to go grab lunch, no one else is here, and the things he are doing can wait fifteen minutes. He sips his coffee, liking that idea.  
  
The elevator doors open. John and Nathan rush into the command center.He frowns, noticing a box in Nathan's hands. There goes lunch, maybe he can still sneak by though.  
  
"Where are you off, too?" John asks.  
  
"Lunch." George says casually.   
  
"We have some work we need you to do, pronto." Nathan tells him. His dark eyes serious.He hands George a box of computer disks.  
  
"What do I get to do with these?"George asks, knowing he probably will be getting out very late if he is right on what he has to do with the disks.  
  
"You use your little computer over there, put the first disk in, explore its contents, printing out any that may involve the case, then you start on the next disk." John says sarcastically, running a finger through his brown hair.  
  
"You don't have to be sarcastic."George says with a frown. He takes another sip from the tar brew, John had brewed this morning, from his mug.   
  
"Well, I was just telling you, you seem to have forgotten your job."More saracsim, can be heard in John's voice.  
  
"Excuse me. I know what my job is, just because you hand me a box of disks, doesn't mean I am going to jump to the conclusion, I need to go through them all, I just wanted to clarify." George quips.  
  
"I was just making sure your peabr...."   
  
Nathan cuts him off. "What is with you,man? There really is no need for that, you have been jumping on people's cases ever since you came in. And you have been acting especially vicious around George."  
  
"Nothing is wrong, you are paranoid." John comments and saunters off to his desk, almost trumphantly..   
  
"I'm sorry about that, George." Nathan says, feeling it his duty to apology, since John is his best friend.  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry for,don't worry about it." He takes a sip from his mug. "I think hes mad for this 'delicious' brew he conjured."  
  
Nathan laughs. Then,He shakes his head. "Who knows?"  
  
"I think I am going to run down to Starbucks, and get some real coffee.You want some?"   
  
Nathan pours a mug of coffee from the pot, taking a small delibrate sip. His face turns into a sour expression. He pours the mug back into the pot, and swallows the sip hard. "Actually, I think that would be good, how about a double grande espresso."  
  
"You got it." George answers, and goes to set the box of disk by his computer. "I'll be right back, probably be the last time, I actually get to leave once I get started on those disks."   
  
Nathan pulls out his wallet, to give George money for his coffee, he hands a twenty to George.   
  
George takes the bill, between his left thumb and index finger, ready to give it back. "Thanks, but I can cover it."  
  
"No, let me get it this time, You can get it next time, since you will probably be having me go get some more in an hour -or- two, and you will be glued to your computer.So, use it for the whole bill, and you can keep the change."   
  
"Okay.Thanks."George steps into the elevator.  
  
Nathan goes farther into the building, and perches himself on Grant's desk, one leg dangling against the drawers, the other firmly planted on the floor.  
  
Grant looks up at him. "What do you want?"  
  
"Why do you have such a chip on your shoulder today?" His brown eyes penetrating Grant's hazel eyes.  
  
"I don't know what you are talking about." John says pretending to act innocent.  
  
"Don't lie to me."Nathan retorts sternly.  
  
"Okay, fine, its about Richard."  
  
"Is this the Richard I think it is?"  
  
"Yeah, George's boyfriend." John squirms a little, hes uncomfortable about this.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"Last night, I went to a bar, and he was there, and he started hitting on me." John looks away.  
  
"Why are you taking it out on George?" Nathan asks, wondering where this is going.  
  
"It's his boyfriend, he should be able to control him. George should let him know he shouldn't hit on straight guys, -or- anyone for that matter. That was a very uncomfortable situation, he was drunk, George should make sure his boyfriend doesn't make scenes like that in public."   
  
"Did anything happen between you and Richard?"   
  
"What are you crazy? No, I walked out of there before anything did. I wouldn't do that to George anyway, if I were gay."   
  
"That sounds like a confession."  
  
John turns to him sharply. "Its not, nothing happened, Thank God. I just think George should learn how to control Richard."  
  
Nathan watches him, knowing hes telling the truth, that nothing happened, but he shakes his head. "You don't need to take this out on George. I am sure, he knows nothing about it."  
  
(more to come) 


	4. ch. 4

Part 4  
  
Sam walks the football field, looking for anything. Why would the murderer bring the bodies here? She closes her eyes, and sees a picture of a figure in a red and yellow jersey, falling down hard on the fifty yard line right in front of a bench, no one else on the field is with him, and the football he is carrying flying thirty yards from his crumpled body.She opens her eyes and the vision fades away.  
  
Grace comes up behind her. "Did you find anything?"  
  
Sam shakes her head. "Where's Bailey?"  
  
"He went to go have a cigar. " They begin to walk back out of the field. Bailey is standing outside the gate waiting for them, taking a long draw from his cigar.  
  
"So, what do we have?" He asks, finishing his cigar and stuffing it out in a stryrofoam cup hes holding.  
  
"I would say the murder is a male between the ages 18 and 35, who at one time played, -or- wanted to play football with the university. I don't think he made the team though, possibly because some medical condition. Someone quiet, probably not many people noticed him. Probably went to the university, and in the middle of his class, though he is highly intelligent. He has -or- does something in the medical field, perhaps just took a few classes, but he knows some about the field."   
  
"If he has a medicial condition, he may have studied up on it when he was diagonosed."Grace suggests.   
  
"That's very likely."   
  
"Then, we have a lot of suspects." Bailey answers. He tosses the stryrofoam cup into a trashcan.  
  
"Are you sure about that, I don't think you will be helping us much on this case." Grace teases.  
  
"Don't remind me, I can't believe they are giving me jury duty. If I am lucky, I will get cut from the jury.Let's head back, see what everyone else has found."   
  
Grace and Sam climb into the small gold car they had driven here in, and Bailey climbs into the SUV.  
  
---   
"What is the meaning of this? I made coffee." John says, grabbing a cup and pouring himself a cup.  
Nathan and George watch him as he takes a sip, John's face sours and he spits the coffee into the trashcan nearby. "Yuck, who made this junk. I couldn't have made this."  
  
George laughs, and heads back towards his computer, taking a sip out of the coffee he had just bought.   
  
"You did make it, well, you said you did, what did you put in it, most certainly not coffeebeans," Nathan says.  
  
"I'll make a new pot, then. No problem." John says.  
  
"No way, you better let me do it. You can go dump this garbage you call coffee, though." Nathan says, handing him the pot. He looks under the cabinet the pot is on for the beans, as John goes off to dump the pot in the bathroom. He pulls out the bag, and looks inside. "Georgie, come check this out!"  
  
George, hearing his name, groans slightly as he goes to see what's up. He notices Nathan holding the bag of coffee, the company uses to make the coffee.   
  
"Look inside the bag." Nathan tells him.  
  
"Umm, okay." He takes a peak inside the bag. "What in the world! Who ever did that is evil!"  
  
"What?" John asks, coming back with the coffee pot filled with clean water.   
  
"Someone mixed mint tea in with the coffee beans." George says.  
  
"How do you know its mint?" John asks.  
  
"Richard consumes Mint tea like I consume coffee, I know what it looks like."   
  
John face sours, when he metions Richard's name.  
  
"What?" George asks.   
  
"Nothing." John says, and the elevator chimes as Sam, Grace, and Bailey come back from the investigation.   
  
"What's going on?" Grace asks, noticing the three men huddled around the coffee bag. "A new way to get a caffenine high?" She jokes.  
  
"Someone put mint tea in with the coffeebeans." Nathan says.  
  
"Let me see." She takes the bag, and pulls a leaf out, sniffing it. She tosses the bag in the trash. "Who ever did that is evil."  
  
"Now, lets all get back to work, and forget about the coffee!" Bailey yells. They all scurry back into the command center.  
  
(more to come) 


	5. ch.5

Part 5  
  
"Any commonalities, George?" Bailey asks, as everyone sits down.  
  
"They all have the same blood type, A positive, that's where the commonality ends, I am still having the search run though."   
  
"What are these computer disks?" Grace asks.  
  
"Disks from Kyle McKinley's computer, we tried to get the harddrive but its missing. We thought Georgie might find something on the disks, the killer maybe someone they all knew." John answers. "The harddrives and disks from the other two victims should be coming in shortly."  
  
"Oh joy." George muses. He takes a sip of his coffee, wondering if he will actually see his apartment, again, before Richard gets back in five days."What do you have on the profile, Sam?" He asks, knowing a suspect list will have to be started soon.  
  
"Male, between the ages of 18 and 35, possibly caucasian, a student at the university, now, -or- previously, possible medical condition which excluded him from joining the football team, intelligent, but quiet, very easily able to blend in with a crowd and not be noticed, I can't be sure if these are random victims, I sense an element of perhaps power in the murders, a power he normally doesn't assume. I am not sure if he graduated, he may have dropped out, college life may have been too much for him. Probably involve in some school activity, like band, -or- a fraternity, but never really used his talents, tried to stay out of the spotlight.He has had some medicial training.His occupation would be something like an apprentice, -or- a waiter, something not much in the limelight." She says, zoning off into the usual mode she gets in when she is trying to picture the suspects in her head.  
  
"Okay, so, half the men in Atlanta could be suspect. Do you want me to start running a search?" George asks.  
  
Sam nods.   
  
George types something into his computer.  
  
"Okay, now what did you and John find out?" Bailey asks.  
  
"Not much, everyone told us how much of a good kid, Staten was, and we could barely find anyone who knew McKinley.We haven't been able to talk to the people at le Petit Pied, they asked us to come back this afternoon, when there were no classes, didn't want to scare the ballet students."Nathan answers.  
  
"Looks like we have a lot of work ahead of us, and unfortunately, I will have to be away for a few days, I have been picked for jury duty, hopefully, I can get out of it, but I have to be there for the selection process, so, I am leaving John in charge to make sure, everyone gets some sleep, sometime, and aren't here for more than thirty six hours at a time. Can you do that John?"   
  
"Sure. No problem." John leans back in his chair slightly.  
  
The phone rings. Bailey picks it up. "Malone?" He answers in a curt manner."Oh?...I see...Thank you." He hangs the phone back on the cradle. "We have another victim."  
  
Everyone heads out the door, but George. He takes a sip of his coffee, and begins typing. He pulls the box of disk closer to him, and flips while watching the computer search at the same time. He groans when he notices none are marked. Its going to be a long week.  
  
(more to come) 


	6. ch.6

part 6  
  
George drains the last of his cup with a frown, He pops the tiny remains of his chocolate donut into his mouth. He needs some more coffee. He stares at his computer screen, he notices a message flashing on the screen. "Oh, Jolly, someone trying to hack in." He mumbles to himself. He presses a few keys, and soon the message disappers, he hopes he has discouraged the hacker from trying that trick again. He gets a feeling something is coming and turns to look behind him.  
  
He smiles as he sees an intern,Santigo, looking around for things to do. He signals her, and she and her four eleven blond frame bound over to him.  
  
"Can I help you Mr. Fraley, I am not very good with computers, but I would love to help anyway I can?" She says chirply, batting her eyelashes a tiny bit, hoping he will catch it.  
  
"I like your attitude, Diana, you must certainly can help." He gives her a gentle smile.  
  
She smiles back, she thinks hes cute, and she's hoping maybe he is going to go straight, and will ask her to help. "Yes, sir?"She can just hear him say, "I want to become straight, let's make passionate love on the table."  
  
"Could you run to Starbucks, and bring me back a large coffee?"  
  
She shakes her head slightly.She tries not to make it look like she was daydreaming. "Sure." She gives him a faked sweet smile.'Its a waste hes gay,' she thinks to herself, frowning mentally. "You have a smudge of chocolate on your lip, let me wipe it off." She pulls a tissue from a pack in her skirt pocket, and leans close to him as she wipes his lip.  
  
"Thanks, you're a doll." He gives her a smile, and reaches into his pocket for some very unneatly folded singles, and takes her hand, and folds it over the bills.  
  
"You're welcome, I will be back in five minutes."She gives him another smile, and places the bills in her pocket. She tries not to melt before she gets to the elevator, when she gets inside, she almost trips. "He called me a doll, and he touched my hand." She thinks, "Perhaps there is still hope, yet."  
  
George turns back to the computer.He frowns. He's not turning up anything today. He injects the disk from the computer, and with a yawn puts in another one from the box. He crosses his fingers, hoping it is not another hunting game. He has already looked out of fifteen of them in this box, and unfortunately, he had only looked at fifteen disks from the box. Before, he checks the contents of the disks, he checks on the results of his searches, with a few keystrokes. He frowns deeper, noticing the suspect list is now 1119, it should be fun to obtain those records, and sort through them.The commonailty search is much the same as it was before. He prints out the first 1000 suspects, and puts them in a file, writting a note for the researchers under him to start procuring them from the police, university, etc.   
  
He hails another intern, not looking up from the computer screen. "Go deliever this to the second floor, ASAP." He says, handing them the folder.   
  
"Which department, sir?" The young white kid, named Sanders, from Nebraska, asks confusedly.  
  
George turns to him, glaring at him. "There is only one department on the second floor, and it says it on the folder, so what department is on the second floor?"  
  
"Research." He says, reading it. "But I thought you were research?"  
  
"Look, Sanders, " He says reading the name tag, "Will you please go take this to research,second floor, I am the head of research, not the only researcher in the building, okay,and I have a lot of other things to do right now.I am sorry for snapping, you must be new." He quiets his tone some, realizing he was about to yell, and he knows from experience some time yelling at the new interns doesn't help, he has to wait at least two months for them to get adjusted before he can snap at them  
  
"I am new, here, and I am sorry, sir, I will take it right away." He says, taking the folder and scurrying away.  
  
He goes back to the computer. He is glad to actually see something on these disks, and he might have had to break the whole box, if he saw one more hunting game. He opens one of the files.Its a research paper from three years back for country music. He bursts into laughter as he reads, "Country music, took the guitar mainline from Rock and Roll.Sidenote: Rock and Roll was invented in the nineteen twenties, the Victorian Age."He wonders if the kid made that up, -or- if he found it from one of those websites floating around with flash information. He checks the biblography, he wonders if he was happy for the F he probably recieved for this.  
  
The elevator doors open, he looks in that direction, hoping its his coffee, its an FBI delivery man. The man walks up to him, two large boxes in hand. "Agent Fraley?" He asks coldly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Computer disks, and harddrives from a one Staten, Lisa, and a one Wagner, Shelly."   
  
"Umm... You can set them right here." George says indicating the table.  
  
The man nods, and places them on the table, and George watches him as he straightens his navy tie, before turning and heading back out.   
  
George picks up the boxes from the table, he doesn't see anyone to do him a favor in sight, so he begins to walk towards his office.   
The boxes are heavy, and he almost drops them.He wades his way through the long corridors, and turns. An accountant, Argent, walking extremelly fast almost runs into him, as he gets to the door of his office.  
  
"Oh, Mr. Fra-ley, I am so sarry, but I was look-king for you." The man's deep boston accent, irrates George, mainly, because he knows what this will be about.  
  
"Umm, I don't want to talk about the researching budget right now, I am extremelly busy, but if you could be so kind as to open my door.But Mr. Malone will be back soon, I am sure you can bring it up with him, Mr. Argent." George says, almost hitting the man violently with the boxes, but knowing just when not to.  
  
"Sura." He opens the door, and steps back.  
  
George goes inside, and sets the two boxes on the floor near his computer,he sits in his spinny chair, and pulls out a disk from the box closest to him, putting it into the drive, and pretending to turn the computer on. He spins in his chair to look out the glass partition surrounding his office. The accountant has scurried away. He spins back to the boxes on the floor, picks them up, and is about to set them on his tiny blue loveseat. He almost has a heartattack, when he realizes Argent had not scurried away, but instead had sat on the loveseat.  
  
"That was a nice trick you, pretending to be working.You aren't really busy are you." The accountant says, with a "I can take a joke, buddy." tone.  
  
George frowns, "Get out of my office, I am busy, but I wasn't working at this computer." George says, putting the disks back on the floor, and with a quicken pace, heading back to the command center.  
  
Almost thirty seconds later, the command center is in his view. He smiles as he sees a steam rising near his computer, knowing very well it is not coming from the computer, but that beautiful Starbucks cup in front of it.  
  
(more to come) 


	7. ch.7

Part 7  
  
Grace watches as they pick up the head from under the vistor's bleacher. "It appears the body was killed under her." She says, noticing the blood stains under the bleacher, "Appears to have been a struggle."  
  
John kneeling next to her peers at the blood stain below the bleacher, as she talks. "That does not look pretty."   
  
Grace shakes her head. "I don't suppose it would be would it." She motions for one of the camera people to take a picture of the blood pattern.  
  
"The victim's name is Mike Dias, 19, university student. He was at his history class at 10: 30, but didn't show up for his music theory class at 1:00." John tells her.  
  
"Well, the time of death appears to be close to that, probably a few minutes before. Would he have any reasons to be on the football field?" Grace asks.  
  
"Not that I can find, I am going to be interviewing his friends, soon."   
  
Grace nods, and they walk over to Nathan, Bailey, and Sam near where the body is being removed from under the goal post.  
  
"Did you pick up anything, Sam?" Grace asked.  
  
"Nothing new, unfortunately. Maybe, I will get something from their residences."  
  
"We can't see the dorms until this 3: 30, the university is holding an assembly and most of the dorms should be emptied." Bailey answers her.  
  
Sam nods, remembering the information from when he had told her earlier. She looks at her watch, noticing its an hour and an half away."Could we go look at the Wagner house, -or- the Mckinley residence?"  
  
"I'll try and have it arranged." Bailey says, and pulls his cell phone out of his overcoat pocket, and opens it, dialing a number.  
  
"We have some interviews to do, we will catch up with you guys later." Nathan says, and he and John head off the football field towards the university.  
  
"Okay, We have clearance to see the Wagner place, they are working on getting clearance for the Mckinley apartment." Bailey says, hanging up the phone."We'll see you back at the command center, Gracie."  
  
Grace nods.She has an autopsy to perform. She walks off the field, and heads towards her car.  
---  
Bailey pulls up to the small, quaint, bungalow done in what appears to be Spanish architecture, except for the blue paint,and the gleaming white trim. It all looks very neat and tidy. He and Sam unbuckle their belts, and starts up the small, winding pebbled pathway, to the red door. Bailey turns the small knob, and they step under the police line that has been up since Mrs. Wagner's death. They duck underneath it and enter a small foray. Sam makes note of the small imitation oriental rug with the pale blue flowers, in the Bordeaux red background, right next to it sit two tables, one on each side, where a statue of kitten sits egyptianlike on top of each table, watching the visitors make their majestic entrance, that can hardly compare to their majestic copper eyes.  
A small ornate mirror sits above the smaller of the two figures, sending off a dull glow, from dust has settled on its face.  
  
They venture far into the house, into a small, living room with pristine victorian furniture, set in a small circle.Sam walks around the room, looking for something.  
  
"Are you getting anything, Sam?"  
  
"I'm getting this image of someone watching her outside her window. Maybe, it was a stalking, we can have George see if any of them filled a report about a peeping Tom recently. "  
  
"Why would he stalk Mrs. Wagner though."  
  
Sam shakes her head, causing her blond hair to cascade around her face for a second. "I don't know, and it bothers me."  
(more to come) 


	8. ch.8

part 8  
  
Nathan reads the door to himself, as John knocks on the glass door that reads, "James Reed, Dean of students."  
  
A seceretary dressed in a crimson business outfit flounces from her small metal desk towards them. She opens the door. "Oh, you, again." She says, with a smack of her cherry gum. John tries not to make a comment about how she is almost as curtesieous as her employer.  
  
"There has been another murder, we need to talk to Mr. Reed." Nathan comments to her, like she is a stupid five year old.  
  
"Oh, you came back, too." She says with a smile, "Mr. Reed is with a student right now, you'll have to wait a few moments. There is a seat right next to my desk, doll."  
  
"That's okay, thank you, I will stand."  
  
John gives him an amused smile, and Nathan frowns. "I'll take that chair, next to you," he says, with a wink of an eye.  
  
"Oh, I was mistaken, there is no seat next to me." She says, and goes to sit behind her desk, giving him a little glare, before beginning to type something.  
  
"I'm insulted." John mutters under his breath.  
  
"You are ,also, deranged." Nathan says, out of the secertary's earshot.  
  
John gives him a little glare, and ambles to a leather chair along the wall, and begins to watch the wooden door in the front of the room.  
  
A few seconds later, a kid who appears to be a freshman, with red hair and green eyes, opens the door, and peaks outside it, before stepping out. "H-Hello." he says, weakly to John, and Nathan.  
  
"Hello, " Nathan responds back.   
  
"I'm agent John...." The kid scurries away before John can finish.  
  
"Strange kid." John says, with a shrug.  
  
"Mr. Reed will see you now." The seceratary says, boredly, towards John, and gives a brilliant,"I'm doing a good job," smile to Nathan.  
  
They walk into his Reed's large, well used office. The man, in his late forties, jumps up from his disorganized desk. "Hello, Detective Grant and Detective Brubank, how can I help you today." The man says in an over achieved voice that contains much faked excitement. He outstretches his hand across the desk, for John, whom is closest. He notices he has blue ink stained all over his hand, he glances angrily at the defenseless ballpoint, he had previously been writing with.He pulls a rumpled handkerchief out of his pocket, and tries faillessly to wipe off the coloration of his palm.  
  
Nathan sits in on of the leather seats in front of the desk, and John follows his movement in the other chair a split second later.  
  
"We will try not to take much of your time, Mr. Reed."  
  
"I see, okay." The man sits, and runs his fingers through his brown, and greying hair, not realizing he is smearing ink in it.  
  
John grins, but it fades off his face as he begins to speak. "You are aware, there has been another murder on your field. A student by the name of Mike Diaz..."  
  
"I am aware."  
  
"Did you know him?"  
  
The Dean shakes his head."No, I am sorry, and I am sorry, I do not have any information to help you solve these ghastly murders.As you know, this is my first year as Dean, and I don't know very many of the students."  
  
"Could we have his file?" Nathan asks.  
  
"Certainly, I'll have my seceratary give it to you on the way out."  
  
Nathan nods. He and John stand. "Thank you for your help." They give him a cordial nod, and head out the door.  
  
(more to come) 


	9. ch.9

part 9  
  
Bailey walks back into the command center, noticing George sitting staring at his computer screen. "Find anything new, Georgie?"  
  
"No." George shakes his head slightly, he takes a sip of the coffee in front of him. He looks behind him supiciously for a moment.  
  
"What are you being chased now?" Bailey jokes, with a smile.  
  
"Just making sure, Argent is not in the vicinity." George's gazes returns back to his computer screen.  
  
Bailey sits down at one of the chairs. "Well, I think its good hes around, he gets on my nerves some times."   
  
They hear Sam come into the command center. "Who gets on your nerves?" She raises an eyebrow, playfully.  
  
  
"Argent."George answers. "He gets on my nerves, too, Actually I think anyone who works with money and has a name like that would make me supicious."  
  
"The name does suit him." Sam subconciously brushes back the strands of her blond hair.   
  
"We need to get back to the case." Bailey comments.   
  
"Sure... Did you guys find anything at the victims' homes?" George asks.   
  
"Yes, I did, but its going to be more work for you, Georgie." Sam says.  
  
He stares at her hard for a second, not responding. He takes another sip of his coffee, and seems to contemplate the rich caffenine enriched brew as he takes the cup from his lips. "What did you find?"  
  
"We think they may have been stalked by the killer."  
  
George smiles. "That actually limits my load. If the killer was accused of stalking before, it limits the search."  
  
"You know I didn't think about it before, but it does limit your workload." Bailey answers. " But not by much, we need you to check the police files, and see if any of the victims reported being stalked."  
  
George stares off into space for a minute. "I found something about Mckinley, thinking he was being followed, it was a journal entry. Let me pull it up." He gazes at the stack of disks in front of him, trying to remember where he put it. He notices something sticking out of the case file, he pulls it out. He closes out the disk, he had been looking at, and ejects the disk, putting the other disk in. With a few key strokes, he pulls the journal onto the large screen.  
  
"Dear Journal, I saw the white mini van agin, that one with that dumb bumper sticker on the front windshield from some college band,I was gettin' off of work. It had been a long day, we was full house, people kept comin' in and comin' out. It was stressful. I made $50 in tips though, now I can buy me some new boots, -or- maybe that new Reba Cd, I have been waitin' to get that for sometime now. Anyway, I keep seeing that van, I don't know why. Almost, as if its followin' me. I ain't goin' go to the po-lice though, probably is my imagenation.Nobody knows me here, Atlanta is a big city, it may very well have a popelation of white mini vans with band stickers, and red haired drivers.Bye, Kyle." Samantha reads off the screen, quickly, not listening much to the sound of her soft echo in the command center.  
  
  
(more to come) 


	10. ch. 10

Part 10  
9 pm  
  
Casey McCorkle starts up his white cheerokee jeep. He really doesn't want to go to band practice tonight, but if he doesn't show up he will get a demerit. They should have called band practice off, he thinks its a sin that after one of the band members died, they still held it. It will probably be a memorial, and he knows now he has to go through the ritual of pretending to be sad, that one of his best buds, Mike Diaz had died.  
  
The acting depressed was straining him of energy he could use to hunt for more victims.He knew all his victims deserved to die, they possessed something he would never possess. Courage. He was aware,that this reason wasn't a very good reason, but their was something about them, something he envied them for. How could they all possess such a wealth of bravery, when he, Casey, was blessed with a good family, and good intelligence, but was as spineless as a jellyfish. He deserved better, he did not like to be regarded as one of the bums of the world. He especially knew if anyone found out he was a killer, -or- that he was thinking of dropping his university studies, he would defenitly be considered one of the failures of the world.  
  
He knew he could not legally declare himself insane, as he knew exactly what he had been doing when he had decapitated the five people. He had enjoyed the experience, and that was one of the reasons, the fifth victim was still in his jeep, he figured it was well hidden, since his Jeep could easily be mistaken for an SUV, -or- a van, and offered lots of space, and the FBI, who were now working the case, would never suspect him. He was too quite, too forgetable to be missed. He could blend in with any crowd, and act as if he belonged. The only thing that might tip the G-men to his presence, maybe his red hair,which he was getting dyed to brown soon, anyway, so then he would really be able to blend in with the whole university crowd.   
  
He needs to find a new victim soon, someone not related to the University to throw them off, and make them think they have a copycat killer.  
  
His watch beeps, and he curses himself, he was suppose to turn the alarm off, why should he have to remind himself to take his pills, when he was refusing to take them anymore. He'll fix it later, he pulls his saxophone case out of the jeep, and begins to walk towards the band room.  
  
A friend of his named Mandy, her brown hair spilling behind her, runs up to him. "They cancelled practice, but they are having a memorial for Mike, and Mr. Singleton asked me to find you, and see if you would say a few words."  
  
"I don't know, YOU know how I hate making public speeches."  
  
"Please, you probably knew him better than all of us, and it would really help, you know he would have wanted you, to."  
  
"Okay, fine, should I bring my sax inside," Casey asks.  
  
Mandy doesn't answer him, but grabs his other hand and drags him swiftly towards the band room.   
  
(more to come) 


	11. ch.11

Coffee Beans Part 11  
  
Sam adjusts her small camera, that appears as a brouche. "Can you see anyone now, George?" She asks into a small body mic.  
  
"Roger! So, do I need to take pictures of everyone, -or- just a few?" George takes a sip of his coffee, and watches the screen in front of him. He looks at his surroundings, wonders if the van seems to be getting smaller, decides he needs more coffee, and takes another sip.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"I think there are 150 members and the band, and I will be taking about 150 photos. Where's Bailey, aren't he and John suppose to be covering the left side of the room." Two more of the television sets come on. "Never mind, John adjust yourself where I can actually see people to take the picture."  
  
"I thought I was." John snaps.  
  
"Hey, don't start fighting children. John adjusts yourself , which way George?" Bailey glancing at John, wondering why he keeps picking on George.  
  
"Right."He waits a few seconds as John adjusts himself. "Thank you, that wasn't so hard." He takes another sip of his coffee, and begins snapping pictures of some of the faces.  
  
Sam spots Casey and Mandy walk into the room. "George you see the young man with the red hair?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got of picture of him, and the girl." George answers, "Should I put them on the priority list?"  
  
"Yes, I think he is one of Mike's best friends."  
  
"Let's see, Casey McCorkle, age 20, hes been friends with Mike since Junior high, and he appears to be on the suspect list, though that isn't a big suprise, we still have almost half the male university population on the suspect list. Wait..what is this... He has a connection to Wagner, and McKinley, too. Wagner was his Godmother, and McKinley went to the same high school, as he and Diaz."  
  
"Any connection to Stanten?" Bailey asks.  
  
"Not that I can find, I will keep looking." George takes another sip of his coffee.  
  
"You do that.""Thanks Georgie." Bailey says, his voice overpowering John's.  
  
"No problem." George takes a few more pictures, and takes another sip of his coffee, he would figure out what was wrong with John, but he doesn't have time.  
  
Sam watches McCorkle as he goes over to talk to the band director, Mr. Singleton, and then, heads to the podium. She notes he looks somewhat nervous, it seems not because he has lost his best friend, but because he doesn't want to talk to the crowd.  
  
"My fellow band mates, we have suffered a very hard lose, and we must do our best to work with the investigators on this case to bring the killer to justice.For Mike's sake, Mike our good friend, and best trombone player. May God keep him safe, and help us see his life wasn't in vain." Casey says after hes gotten the crowds attention.  
  
Sam watches him curiously, the words he just spoke seem trite, as if he was reading from a script, maybe she is just mistakening his loss for something else. Something is rubbing her the wrong way about this McCorkle fellow though, and she can't place it, maybe she will understand when she reads his file.  
(more to come) 


	12. ch.12

Coffee beans  
Part 12  
Note: Christopher Warren is a character I made up, he never is even metioned on the show, so don't start trying to search through your profiler tapes to find a metion of him.   
  
Nathan sips a cup of coffee, and watches George as he takes pictures of the people.He begins working on the paper work he was filling out. "So, what do you think Richard is up to right now?"  
"Ummm...why do you ask?" George does not look from his work.  
"Just wondering, I haven't heard you metion how things are going with you two in a couple days." Nathan watches his friends reaction.  
"Fine, Why? Do you think something is going wrong? Did you hear something, was their a plane crash?" George turns his chair toward Nathan.His eyes widen, knowing that Nathan is manning the radios.  
"No, I didn't hear anything, and there wasn't a plane crash, I was just asking, can't I do that." Nathan takes another sip of his coffee.  
"I didn't mean to jump on you, its just I worry about him more when he flies, he always gets me paranoid something is going to happen." George takes a sip of his coffee. "Nothings been happening out of the ordinary in our relationship, is something going on with you and Michelle?"  
Nathan chuckles. "That's the problem with my relationship right now, nothing is happening. I am glad we aren't at each other's throats right now. Why are you more paranoid when Richard flies?"  
"I've seen too many movies where plane crash."   
"Where's he going again?"  
"To visit his parents in Boston."  
"Does he act stranger when he goes to visit his parents?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Like I don't know...go out and get drunk."  
George's eyebrows raise. "Drunk?...You can't be serious." He gives a nervous chuckle. "Richard is not the type to go out and get smashed, before he meets his parents, that would be totally irresponsible for him to do."  
"You sure, doesn't he act irresponsible at times."  
"I do admit, Richard can be a little childish, but He Would NEVER get drunk. It would kill him, one drink would put him in a diabetic coma.What are you getting at, Nat?"  
"Ummm..."  
"Nathan, if you heard that Richard was out getting drunk, you need to tell me!"  
"No...John said he saw Richard the other day at the bar, and he..."  
"What?"  
"He said Richard was drunk and was hitting on him."  
George stares at him in disbelief. Then, he laughs. "This is a joke, right, John is not Richard's type. When was this encounter suppose to happen?"  
"Last night."  
"That's impossible. He was with me last night, unless..." George frowns. "If I do something non work related will you rat me out?"  
"How long is it going to take?"  
"Not more than five minutes."  
"Okay, Scout's honor."  
George takes his cell phone from his pocket, and dials a number on his memory.  
"Warren."  
"Hey, Rich..."  
"Hey, Geo, I asked you not to wake me up, again."  
"Did I? I'm sorry, I have a quick question." George begins tapping nervously on the table with his thumb ring.  
"No, you didn't. I was just about to leave though. What is it?"  
"Where's Chris?"  
Richard laughs. "Chris is in ...wait, Mom said something about them releasing him this month, last week I think, why?"  
"I'll explain later, I am on the clock. Have a nice flight."  
"Okay, I love you."  
"Ditto." George hangs up the phone. "Damn it!"  
"What?"  
"Richard brother, Chris was released."  
"Wait, their twins aren't they."  
"Except for the fact Chris is insane, and not diabetic."George puts his cell phone away, and then takes a long sip of coffee.  
"So, John probably saw Chris," Nathan concludes, realizing George is right that Chris is insane.  
"Damn it, if John saw Chris, and Chris knows he works with me...." He doesn't finish his thought.  
"Do you think he will come after you?" Nathan asks, remembering hearing a discussion of Chris trying to kill George once, because he disagreed with Richard's life style.  
"I ..." "George, how are the pictures coming, did you get a picture of everyone?" Bailey asks over the radio.  
"No, I am still working on." George says returning back to his work.   
(more to come) 


	13. ch.13

Part 13  
  
Richard Warren gazes out the window, concentrating on the clouds, and trying to ignore the other passengers.  
"They don't even know do they?" Someone asks next to him in a harsh voice.  
Richard shifts his brown eyes towards the voice. "I was going to tell them.Why don't you get off my back, Christopher."  
"Sure, you were, when, when you contraticed Aids, -or- some other God awful disease. I mean especially considering your taste is terrible. I mean how do you think Mom and Dad are going to feel when one you have a taste in Men, and two your boyfriend is Jew trash..."   
"How dare you! You don't even know him, he is not trash! Maybe you are, and I don't mind the fact he's Jewish, the Jews are really nice people, and they have more manners than you do!" Richard glares at his brother.  
Christopher Warren laughs. His brown eyes get a gleam of madness in them. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."  
"You leave him alone!!! I don't know why you hate him so much, he hasn't done anything to you."  
"He's done something to you, convincing you you were GAY. If you had just stayed in your marriage..."  
"My marriage wasn't even real, it was just a shame. There was no truth in it! And anyway, he didn't convince me I was Gay, I helped him realize he was gay."  
"My God, RICHARD, That's what he wants you to believe. I hope he has fun at work, today..."  
"What do you mean?"He turns sharply toward his brother, wondering how the mirrored face could be so spiteful.  
"I hit on one of his co-workers, I saw him at a bar, pretended I was drunk, and I was you, and I hit on him. Your little Geo is probrably getting the heat because he can't control you." He laughs an evil laugh.  
"Which co---"  
"That John Grant fellow, -or- whatever his name is...The brunette guy on the picture that Geo possesses in his bedroom of his coworkers... This one.." He says pulling the picture out of his pocket, and pointing to John. "I don't think that's his real name, if it is he should feel ashamed, that's one of the alias Buffalo Bill used in that movie."  
"I can't believe you!" He turns to the window again.  
"What movie is that from?"Christopher pulls Richard where he is facing him again.  
"I wish you would leave me alone!"  
"Why did you buy my plane ticket,...never mind don't answer that." Chris gives his brother an evil grin, "Now, what was that movie, you're a film buff, the one with the Cannibal in it,played by Anthoney Hopkins."  
"Silence of the Lambs."  
"Yeah, that one, the other killer's name was Buffalo Bill, and he had used the alias John Grant at one time, isn't that funny."  
"No."  
"NO!!!HOW DARE YOU!" He shoves richard against the window.  
"Ow!" Richard rubs his head where it hits the glass, wondering why they let his brother out of that mental institute. Why can't he stand up to him, and not have brought him the ticket, then he wouldn't be sitting next to him on the way to go with him to visit their parents. One thing flashes in his mind, the time Chris came to his apartment, and saw him in an embrace with George and almost killed him. He closes his eyes not trying to see the picture of Chris holding George against the wall, threatening to rape him, and teaching him being gay was not something he should have taught Rich, and to beat him to death afterwards with a swatskia. Richard knew he could never let Chris get near his love again, -or- soon he would be attending George's funereal. Richard turns back to staring out the window, hoping that John had overlooked the episode with Chris, -or- that Chris was lying, which he probably wasn't, and wasn't harrassing George. He touches the crucifix around his neck for a brief second, hoping that although he wasn't a good catholic, and perhaps George wasn't the model Jew, right now, God would keep George safe until Richard could find a way to keep Chris away from him. He doesn't even notice the stewardess leaning over Chris asking him to quiet it down, since some people are trying to sleep.  
He does notice a slight muffled noise behind him, and turns to see Chris locking lips with the blond hair stewardess, her trying to struggle, and him holding her tighter.  
Chris lets her go a few seconds later, with a laugh. "Did you like that, sweetheart."   
"Don't you dare do that again." She says walking away.  
"She liked it, she didn't slap my face." Chris says grinning at his brother.  
Richard rolls his eyes, and turns away again. His watch beeps, and he pulls a bottle of medicine out of his pocket, and pops one of his diabetic pills into his mouth dry, not evening looking in Chris's direction again, and closing his eyes to catch a little catnap.  
(more to come) 


	14. ch.14

Part 14  
  
John enters his apartment with a sigh, glad his day of work is done, and hoping George is having fun staying late looking over the remainder of those disks and whatever he has to do. He heads towards his fridge, grabbing a carton of leftover chinese food, giving it a sniff, then taking it to the counter. He sets it on the counter for a seocnd as he grabs a beer out of the fridge. He pops the top of with the bottle opened on the side of the friedge, and then grabs his food and heads into the living room. He is glad he left the chopsticks in the box, he doesn't feel like getting any right now. He plops down on the couch, and kicks his shoes off.  
  
He begins to eat, and notices something with small eyes gazing at him from across the room. He groans, why does he have to have roaches again, he will have to talk to the super about that sometime soon. He tosses his shoe at it, and watches the roach scamper away. It was only a small roach maybe its not that bad, its not like the roaches the size of plates that had invaded the apartment last time.He grimaces to think of the evil they ranked last time.  
  
A knock sounds from across the hall, and he peeks out of the peep hole to see who is visting Mrs. Rodan, and notices Nathan. He unlatches the lock, and stands in the doorway. "Hey Nate, pestering my neighbors now?"  
  
"No, Actually, i was coming to pester you, but I guess I forgot which apartment you lived in, it has been a long day you know?"  
  
"Yeah, you're telling me, I think it might have gone by quicker if it hadn't been for Ge..."  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about that, can I come in?"   
  
"I guess, I don't know why..." John stops, he gives a shrug, and moves to let Nathan enter. He doesn't really want to pick a fight over George, and he knows he shouldn't have been so hard on him, its just Richard's hitting on him, struck a nerve, but he doesn't want to admit it to Nathan, though he figures Nathan, his good friend, already knows.  
  
"Wow, your apartment gets dirtier each time I visit." Nathan chuckles.  
  
"It isn't that bad...Why did you want to talk to me about the thing with George."   
  
"Well, one it isn't a thing between you and George, it doesn't even involve Richard..."  
  
"What do you mean, I know it was Richard, it was him, He had cut his hair and was intoxicated, but it was...."  
  
"George said Richard was diabetic."  
  
John glares at Nathan, "You talked to him about this!!! And anyway what does..."John narrows his eyes, as he grasps what that would mean if it were Richard."So, if it wasn't Richard, who was it then?"   
  
"His brother."  
  
"Brother, he has a brother? I don't remember George ever metioning that."  
  
"He never has, until today, when I asked him about the thing with Richard. It seems his brother was just realeased from the institution. George never metioned Richard's brother because he once threatened to kill him, and he didn't want to drudge the memory up, again."  
  
"Wait, ..." John pauses not sure what to say. "So, Richard's brother is gay, as well." He shrudders at the thought of a gay psychopath hitting on him.  
  
"No, he hates gays, George thinks if it was him, he was trying to do something to strain Richard and his relationship."  
  
"So, the world revolves around Geo..."  
  
"Come on, don't take it that way, George is worried if Chris was hitting on you, He might be searching for people to kill, he is very violent, George says."  
  
(more to come) 


	15. ch. 15

part 15  
1 -or- 2 am  
  
George turns the key to his apartment slowly in the lock, a feeling of danger lurking over him for some strange reasons. Hes hoping hes just going paranoid, with finding out they let out Chris and nothing is happening.  
He hears impatient Meowing from inside, and opens the door, to find his tabby cat, Job, trying to cart off a cream coloured envelope, but dropping it as soon as he picks it up in his tiny jaw. George picks up the cat, and the note, and places the small cat on his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.  
Job rubs his head against George's chin, and giving him a small lick. George scratches between his ears with his right hand. "There's no one home, but us, is there, babe?" He asks.  
The cat blinks at him likes hes an idiot, and George laughs.  
He moves his right hand to hold Job steady on his shoulder, and walks towards the tan couch, and sits down. Job jumps off his shoulder, and scampers into Richard's studio down the hall.  
George chuckles as he reconizes the familliar small, circular letter that have been formed to spell out his name on the front of the envelope. This is what he had been fearful of, he determines. He was really paranoid, out of old habit when he first started recieving these cream coloured enveloppes, he sniffs it and is delighted to find it still has a still whiff of Richard's cologne. He is glad no one from work, knew about these notes, they might think he was silly for sniffing them, He is also glad this is the only thing waiting for him, and christopher is not. He opens it up, and pulls out a crisp cream coloured sheet of stationary folded priscely into thirds. He unfolds it and reads:  
"Dear Geo,  
Hope you had a nice day at work, and I do hope its not after midnight..." George laughs, wishing that statement could be true, not after midnight, if he gets home before 12:30 anytime this week he will be lucky. He continues to read the note.  
"I rented you Casablanca again, so you can watch it sometime this week, its due Monday, but Ben says if you don't rewind it he is going to start to charge you. We have a video rewinder you really have no excuse, you are just lazy. But I love you, anyway.  
I am sorry you have to work so much, but I am glad you like your job, your job is important, I am very proud of you, because of it, you know. Well, I am proud of you for other things, but I don't have time to list them right now, sorry, sweetie.  
I left you some grocery money, not because you need the money, but to remind you not to eat pizza while I am gone. I don't like it when you don't get time to eat so you just order a pizza, you need variety.  
I bought you some of those little chocolate cupcakes you like, but I hide them around them house, I figured if I hid them well, they would at least last you two days.  
Please, try and have some fun while I am gone, don't overwork yourself. I love you, I'll see you when I get back.  
I miss you already and you've only been gone an hour.  
Big kisses and hugs,  
Rich." Near the bottom of Rich's signature George notices a doodle of a building, which means that Richard was on the phone when he was writing this, and got bored. He admires the little doodle for a second, then folds the letter back up and sticks it back in the envelope. He tosses the envelope on a pile of mail, deciding to deal with it later, and curls up on the couch and falls to sleep.  
(more to come) 


	16. ch. 16

Part 16  
4 am  
  
George snaps his eyes open as he hears a pounding on his front door. He rolls off the couch and walks to the door, straining to look through the peep hole, hoping its not Richard's brother.He is suprised to see Bailey standing there. He opens the door, cursing himself for forgetting to lock it when he got home.  
"What are you doing here, I thought you usually called if something happened on a case." He asks, trying to wake himself up.  
"No, no further developments, I couldn't sleep and I need a favor."  
George stares at his boss blankly, trying to get his mind out of the gutter. "What kind of favour?"He realizes he is being rude, "Uh, would you like to come in." George moves slightly so he can come in.  
"Yes, actually, well, you know that video store you told me about, I stopped by there when I got off of work, and they didn't have the movie I wanted, they said Richard had rented it for you." Bailey takes a step inside, closing the door behind him.  
"Wait they close at nine, what time did you go over there?" He asks, giving his boss a blurry confused look.  
"I left at 8: 30, and I got there about twenty minutes before closing. What time did you get off?"  
"An hour ago, -or- an hour and a half something like that. I thought you were a workaholic though."  
"I usually am, I wanted to take a break. Wait...I woke you up didn't I?" Bailey looks at his younger co-worker with concern.  
"Yeah..that's okay, wait didn't you have a copy of Casablanca?"  
"It broke."  
"Ahh, I see, well, you can watch it, here, -or- at your house. I probably won't get to watch it this week. Actually, why don't you watch it here, if you think Frances can handle her self, I'll watch it with you, I am in the mood now for a little Bogay and bacall."  
"Frances is spending the night at a friend's house. You sure you don't mind. You need your sleep, I don't want you lacking on your job, while I am trying to get out of Jury duty. And you know, Bacall is not in that movie." Bailey gives him a mock glare.  
"Yes, I do, I was just seeing if you were listening.Actually, I need someone to watch it with so I will remember to rewind it."He says, with a laugh and turns to walk farther into his apartment. "Why don't you pop it in, its on the coffee table, and I'll go make some coffee. You want something to eat -or- drink?" He makes his way to the kitchen.  
"You don't have any scotch do you?"  
"Nope, I can't keep alcohol in the house, I freaks me out to have Richard near alcohol, though I know he would never touch it. I have coffee, and diet soda."  
"How about Coffee." Bailey searches through stacks of mail,newspapers,architecture and computer magazines on the coffee table. He notices one of the coffee table books, and chuckles.   
"What's so funny?" George asks from the kitchen.  
"This book."  
"Oh, the worst buildings of the century book, I don't know where Rich picked that up, I think one of his conventions."  
"No, the other book."  
"The other book...Oh, Computer for Morons."  
"It looks interesting."He says, opening it to the first page and noticing a diagram with a computer, labeling the various parts, with such things as where the disks goes, and you see pictures off of it.  
"Yeah, its a nice laugh." Bailey hears, as he finds the tape, removing it from the black box, and putting it into the vcr, without pushing play.  
He notices a small figure approaching him from the hallway. A few seconds later it pounces on him, rubbing its tiny head against his left pant cuff. He picks up the small cat. "Hey boy, how are you?" He asks, scratching its ear. The cat purrs in response.Bailey sits, still holding him, in one of the chairs.  
George comes out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies, and a pot of coffee, and two mugs.  
"Job's not bothering you is he?" George asks setting the tray down, and without searching through the pile on the coffeetable pulls out the remote control which operates both Tv and VCR.  
"Nah, he can watch the movie with us."  
"He is a big Bogay fan, You probably remind him of Bogay, he usually doesn't like males,besides me and Rich." George flips the tv on, and the vcr. He pours a mug of coffee for Bailey, and one for himself, and sits on the couch.  
"A cat thinking I'm bogay, that sounds about right." Bailey chuckles."Good, then he won't talk during the movie." Bailey grins, accepting the mug, and strokes the cat's back.  
George chuckles, and hits play on the vcr.  
(more to come) 


	17. ch. 17

part 17  
  
Casey drives his vehicle up towards the football field to dump the body. He curses himself when he sees he is greeted by bright yellow tape marked "Police Line Do not Enter." He wonders if he should drive through it, that would be funny.He notices a vehicle approaching him with flashing lights, it stops a few feet short then him. A lady police woman steps out of the car, and begins walking towards him.  
She taps on his window. He rolls it down. "Is something wrong, officer?" He asks, trying to pretend he can con her into believing what he wants, he had heard of that trick working with other serial killers, maybe he should have bought that fake arm sling after all, it might work better.  
"Your driving near a crime scene, sir. Can I ask your intentions?" She asks, he notes a light southern accent in her voice.  
"I'm sorry, I must have gone the wrong way, I was looking for the dorms."  
"They're in the opposite direction, sir, and it seems you should know that since you have a dorm parking lot sticker, and a university sticker on your vehicle."  
Casey gives her a weak smile. "I'm sorry, my best friend died recently, and I am a little fuzzyheaded still, it was such a shock." A saddened expression appears on his face.  
"Well, I will except that for now, a lot of the students have been upset by it, but a lot have been driving up here to see the field, and we can't have that. Try and be careful and lock your doors, when you make it back to your apartment."  
"Yes Ma'am." Casey puts the jeep in reverse, and wonders where he can go to dump the body now. He wonders if he should just drive back and kill the officer, but that would be too supicious, he can't start to get sloppy now, it just wouldn't work, they would be able to track him more quicker. He is already running a risk due to the fact that he can be connected to the victims in one way -or- another, hopefully they won't be able to trace him to the fifth victim, but where is he going to dump it.  
He should take it back to his apartment, but this body being in his car is arousing him, and if he masterbates over the victim, they will be able to trace it to him quicker. He is so close to gain the power he deserves, to have the ability to remain undectected, unlike many of his counterparts, Dahmer, Bundy, Berkowitz, Gacy, Gein, Kemper, they were all stupid and started to get sloppy with their work, and let the feds swirm in on them and take everything they had been working for away from them. He had started this out as revenge, but something in him knew that was not what he was trying to gain. He needed power, and a talent that would serve him well. Something he would be respected for, something his victims had taken from him with their talents, and optimisms when they had been alive, and now he was in control, gaining something they never could. Sure they had their fifteen minutes of Fame, but he had earned a lifetime of it, -or- would when he was finished.  
But where should he drop the body, then it hit him, the greatest location, right on the FBI's doorstep.  
No, where had that thought come from, hes getting cocky, and if he gets cocky hes going to lose control, and not be able to remain undetected. He needs to search for a location where the body of this cheerleader will not be detected, where it will take weeks before they find the body. He shouldn't have killed her, now that he thinks about it, the killing was to close to after Mike's death, and the Fbi will start suspecting him. Maybe he can make it look like a copy cat, but he doesn't know how he would do it. He's going to get caught, they were watching him, probably have him under suveillance, maybe he should get a new vehicle, and leave the body in this vehicle. "Damn it." He curses himself as he swerves to avoid a police car entering the path towards the field.  
He has to think of something, he can't ditch the car, they'll trace it to his parents, but if they start suspecting him they will search his dorm and his car, and then, he'll be in even more trouble. Trash bags, he needs to buy some trash bags, and bag the parts in them triple bagged, and just drop them at the dump.  
That might work, he says, trying to calm himself down, he takes a deep breath, and turns on the radio, and the Back to the Future soundtrack begins to calm him even more. He can control this situation, he will be okay, everything will be fine.  
(more to come) 


	18. ch. 18

Part 18  
  
Samantha stares at the ceiling, wondering what time it is.Something about this case is driving her mad. She senses the acts of voyeristic in the killer's past, but there is confusion in some of the crime scenes. They are mixed killings, he has planned some,but is not prepared for things when they go wrong. He has the ability to decapitate the heads smoothly halfway, but its almost as if he gets bored through the process.She looks at her alarm clock, she will have to go to work in almost an hour. She decides to get up, and take a shower, she turns her alarm clock off, and gets out of bed, grabbing some clothes and heading towards the bathroom.  
She sets her clothes in the bathroom, and decides to check on her daughter Chloe first. Chloe is trying to snuggle deeper under the covers, to catch a few more hours of sleep. Sam decides to wake her up in forty five minutes, that should give her enough time to get enough sleep, and eat breakfast and be ready for school.  
  
She heads back to the bathroom, and turns on the water, checking it every few seconds to see if its nice and warm, as she slips off her pajamas, and gets ready to take a shower. She steps into the shower, and allows the steam and the water to engulf her as she begins to try and picture the killer in her mind. She had started to do that once, but she is unsure how much of her profile is true. Why is this killer alluding her so much?  
  
She pours a little shampoo into her hair, and begins massaging it into her hair, her eyes closed as she tries to picture the killer.She believes him to be male, and the reason she is getting mixed signals is perhaps because the killer is mixed up inside himself.She can sense someone who is perhaps outcast, but has excepted the solitude when it comes in those rare occasions, usually he can blend in with the crowd, and seem just one of the normal people everyone would expect to see.  
  
She senses a bit of an artistic side to him, though he doesn't want to admit it, he hates to accept praise for something he has done well. He craves the spotlight,but is unsure how to whether he deserves it, and is nervous when he does get it. He has all the flair and the repression to be great he just does not know how to acknowledge this fact.  
  
She hears a knocking on the bathroom door. "Mom, breakfast will be in twenty minutes, Angel says you better be ready for work and such."   
  
"Thanks, Chlo. Tell her I will be there in a few minutes."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Samantha decides she will put this killing out of her mind, and pick it back up when she goes to work in about thirty minutes -or- more.  
(more to come) 


	19. ch. 19

Part nineteen  
  
The courtroom is filling with potential jurors, and the lawyers, and jury experts watch them closely. They really need not to, this case isn't worth much to them, on either side, a pety little dui case where the defendant in question had sideswiped a parked car, and a few mailboxes. Twenty minutes remain before they will actually start the Voir Dire -or- jury selecting process. One of the jury experts, a leery man with a leery eye that was always looking for what he called "The birds"- cute 'ducks' and 'chicks' to take to his apartment for a one night stand, notices a duck in a dark suit coming into the court room. He chuckles slightly, and taps the shoulder of one of his peers. "Look its Bailey Malone, that FBI dude."  
"Be quiet, Timothy, I don't have time for your comments, you may not take this job seriously, but I do." The other experts whispers back harshly not looking in the direction he is talking about, as he is trying to concentrate on the other side of the courtroom.  
  
Bailey sits down in the second row, and opens up the Raymond Chandler dime store novel, he had brought with him to pass the time. He hopes this goes by quickly, he is hoping when the judge asks for the nonmedical excuses he can get it out of the selection process easily. He is not really a person to sit in the juror box, and watch a boring case, he would rather be out catching the bad guys. He needs a cigar, but this is a no smoking place. He tries and resists the urge to glance around at the rest of the people around him, the less he does, the less time he will be here, not trying to form any "bonds" with people he will probably see once in his life, -or- talking to those few people he may have prosecuted who may have slipped in. He would talk to anyone who was an aquaintance of a victim, if they approach him, as he knew some of them held grudges against the FBI -or- him in particular for the harassing they had percieved he had caused them as he tried to fight to bring the killer of their family, friends, and neighbours to justice.  
  
He opens his novel, it had been a long time since he had actually been able to sit down, and read something. He was going to finish this book again before he died, that was his new year's resolution this year. He opens the book to where he had left off, and begins reading. He is suprised he still remembers the plotline, and doesn't have to restart. He glances up a second, and notices a famillar face two down from him on the bench. He can't place it, but he has seen it in the last few days. A young lad, probably in college, who is sketching on a sketchpad, obviously to anything else that is happening. He probably is going senile, the only people he have seen recently that would match the kid's description are those university students at the memorial..."That's it, Malone." His brain tells him, "He was at the memorial service, McCorkle...-or- something to that effect." He hopes he wrong, he is getting a bad feeling about that kid, and Sam was yesterday as well. He continues to read his book  
  
Casey glances up, and notices a pair of dark italian eyes watching him for a moment. The man goes to reading his novel quickly. Casey curses internally, aware that the man watching him had been one of the Fibbies on the murder case. He curses again, murmuring under his breath. Maybe he didn't notice him, he is probably going paranoid, he knew he shouldn't have shown up, but he had a supicion that him avoiding jury selection he may have got into even more trouble. The body of his last victim was still in his car, and he had to remain calm, they weren't going to search his car. The Fibbie was probably here for the same reason he was, and had no caring about the other members who had to suffer this ordeal with him as well.  
  
"All rise for the honorable Judge J. Thomas." A bailiff calls, and everyone scrambles up to their feet.   
  
The judge, flowing black robe, and long shoulder length hair flowing behind him as he gracefully walked into the courtroom, and sat behind the bench. "Thank you for coming ladies and gentleman, welcome to the jury selection for the case of Roderiquz versus Taminy. " He bangs his gavel on the bench softly, " I will start this proceeding, by hearing the medical and non medical exuses why you shouldn't serve on the jury, and then the lawyers will be asking you question. I will start with the first row."  
(more to come) 


	20. ch. 20

Part 20  
  
"You like tired, next time you should get an earlier flight." Lucille Warren doesn't look at her son, but piles some more pancakes on his plate.  
"He was sleeping on the plane, probably dreaming of his boyfriend, though he says he doesn't sleep..."   
"Did you say Boyfriend?" Luther Warren glares at Richard, "Did I hear Christopher right, RICHARD!" He rubs his hand over his balding head.  
"I was going to tell you, that's why I came...."  
Luther stands up, "SO, your roommate, is actually our boyfriend, and you dare to come into my house to tell me that!!!WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU RICHARD?"  
"Don't yell at him, dear."  
"DAD, should yell at him." Christopher stuffs a giant folded pancake into his mouth.  
"There is nothing wrong with me, Dad, you never agree with my way of life, that's why i waited so long to tell you."Richard drops his fork, beside his plate calmly, knowing it will get worse then this.  
"Did I say you can answer. You are always trying to defile me, Richard, I always knew they shouldn't have locked Christopher up, they should of locked you in the institute."  
Luther sits back down, and takes a sip of his orange juice.  
"Why do you hate me so much?"  
"DO you hear, Lucille, what your boy just said to me, he thinks I hate him, hes the one who defiles everything we believe in, hes an artist, and he thinks he can get away with being a homosexual, you can't still hes a good Catholic."  
"I am not catholic, I despise that religion, its a joke. I was only a catholic, because I thought it would make you proud of me.I can't ever make you happy no matter what."  
"Shut up!!"  
"Luther, don't you think you should give him a chance to defend himself." She sets the pan the pancakes had been in on the stove."Why does it always have to be a one sided argument!"  
"YOU ALWAYS TAKE HIS SIDE! Why must you be unfaithful, too."  
"I do not, why can't we just enjoy breakfast, please."  
"FINE, We're finish our GOD DAMN BREAKFAST, Ma." Christopher says with a grin.  
"CHRISTOPHER, I don't want to hear that phrase in this house again, you aren't too old for me to punish you.Now, how is your job hunt going?"  
Richard's beeper goes off.The sound very low, but everyone at the table can hear it. "May I be excused?"  
"Finish your food, we don't want your sugar to go low." Lucille places a gentle hand on his hand.  
"Listen to your mother, Richard!"  
"I want to see Richie's sugar go low then, I heard once someone's sugar is low, and you inject them with insulin, they can die." Christopher grins. "Oh, my job hunt is going well, soon I'll be working again on construction in no time.!"   
  
Lucille gives her eldest son a strange look."Why did you say that thing about the insulin, Chris dear?"  
  
"Lucille, you over react, it was obvious the kid was joking." Luther turns back to Chris. "That's good, Why don't you come to work with me today, and we can see if we can get you some contacts, and it will be a good opportunity to get back into the swing of things."  
  
Richard doesn't hear them. he begins to cut one of his pancakes into small pieces, cutting a piece, putting it into his mouth, chewing softly, and quietly and beginning the process again. Why he came back, he hadn't a clue. He had to tell them though, hes so proud of George, and he wants them to meet him. He has never been in love with someone so extraordanary, who loved him the same way, and treated him as a special person. He wanted to scream out to his dad, hes sucessful, and hes in a great relationship, yet he knew his dad would never understand.   
  
His mother taps the table beside him softly, and switches plates with him, while Luther and christopher aren't paying attention. "Go make your phone call, and afterwards, when your dad and christopher go to work, I'd like to hear about your boyfriend." She gives him a warm smile. He nods, he departs from the table placing his mom's empty plate in the sink, and going to his room, to use his cell phone.  
  
He climbs the stairs quickly, and goes into his room. He pulls his beeper out and is about to hit recall when his cell phone rings. He pushes the power button. "Warren?" He answers professionally.  
  
"I am not calling at a bad time, Mr. Warren?" He hears a british voice ask.  
  
He chuckles. "Hi, Geo, No, you're not calling at a bad time."  
  
"You sound a little sad, sweetie, what's wrong?" George asks, noticing an underlying tone to the famillar voice, he rejects the disk he was looking at and pops another disk into the machine.   
  
"My dad....Chr...It came out too soon about us, I was trying to break it in gently."He sits on the edge of his bed, wishing Geo was here.  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetie."  
  
"S'okay. Shouldn't you be at work?" He pulls his feet on the bed, and picks up his pillow setting it on his knees.  
  
"I'm at work, kiddo. But don't rat me out." His eyes watch the monitor in front of him.  
  
"I should let you get back to work..."  
  
"Don't worry about it."   
  
"No, I should let you get back to work.I love you,George. I'll call you later, -or- if not I will see you when I get back"  
  
"Okay, Honey. I love you, too.Thanks for the...."  
  
Richard hangs up the phone abruptly, knowing he can't be on the phone with George in this house, with his father still here. He is sure George will understand. He hugs the pillow to his chest for a moment, a tear drop drips down his face. He shouldn't have hung up on Geo, and he knows Geo will be worried about him a little, but he needs to face his father on his own, he needs to deal with this whole mess on his own, right now, he can't let Geo guide him carefully through it. Geo will just need to be there to catch him in his arm, when this is over, and he knows Geo will understand, it was the same situation almost a few months ago, except George needed to battle his demons, and Richard was the one who had to watch as he went into the battlefield, destroying the feelings Luke Dickerson had writhed up inside of Geo, and Richard had been the one, at the end of the battle to let George cry. 


	21. ch.21

Part 21  
Author's note: I have come to the conclusion Ally Walker wears coloured contacts at time, -or- else she has the strange eyes of a blond, which like Dirk Benedict, can appear more than one color, so I am saying they are hazel.. I metion this because I wrote another fanfic where I said her eyes were green, and got scolded for it.  
  
Sam takes a sip of coffee, rolling it inside her tongue slightly, as if she were tasting wine, and keeps her hazel eyes on George, as he types on his laptop, scanning things on it. The file for the case sitting open in front of her. He takes a sip of his coffee,and his brown eyes look up at her. "Do you have something else to add to the profile?" He asks, assuming she wants something, since she has been gazing in his direction since she sat down, a few minutes after he had called Richard.  
"No...not right now. I am a little uncertain about this killer, he is giving me mixed signals. How many suspects do we still have on the list, with the new information?" She gives him a little nervous smile, wanting to say something to him, but not sure if she should.  
"Sixty-six." He says draining his cup of coffee and getting up to pour himself another one.  
"How many cups of coffee had you had in the last hour?" She asks, as he puts five packets of sugar into his cup, and stirs it in with the black liquid.  
"Don't know." He adds three packets of creamer, and stirs the coffee again, then throws the stirrer away. "I think this is only my fifth cup since coming to work."  
"Five, that's a lot of coffee isn't it...Its only 10:00 George, we have a long day ahead of us."She watches him take a long sip of his coffee, wondering midly when he will start to feel the effects of his consuming that much coffee.  
"It's only 10:00! It seems like later." He comments more to himself.  
Before Sam can comment to that remark, John walks into the command center. "George I just got a report you were making personal phone calls during office hours." John does this in a mock imitation of Bailey.  
George chuckles.  
"Don't laugh! Were you making personal phone calls?" He raises an eyebrow, jokingly.  
"Not, phone calls, just one call,sir." George is about to give him a grin, when he remembers the mood that John was in yesterday, and doesn't want to get on his dark side, while he is in charge during Bailey's absence.  
"Did you call Richard?" John lightens his tone a little.  
George nods, and takes another sip of his coffee. A good joke pops into his head, but he doesn't say it. He swallows the sip more harshly than he had intended,and he coughs.  
John sits down in the chair next to Sam. "Is his brother with him?"  
"Why?" George looks at him with wide eyes.  
"You -or- I aren't in any danger if hes still in town are we?" John tilts head slightly, unconciously.  
Sam watches them both with curiousity.  
"I ...don..don't know." George takes a sip of his coffee. "I hope not."  
"Good then it won't affect your performance on this case..." He gives George a smile, then his face turns serious."I am sorry about yesterday..I shouldn't have..." John feels akward and searches for the words in his mind.  
" Did I hear that right, John grant actually apologized?" Sam teases to lighten the mood that seemed to have built up.  
George chuckles. "It's okay, John, I am not mad at you for it."  
"Thanks..." he switches back to his Bailey personality. "NOW, both of you get back to work!" He says and heads out of the command center.  
(more to come) 


	22. ch.22

part 22  
  
Casey, free now for the day as the lawyers fight over who will be on the jury, hopes he doesn't get picked. He is juror number twenty six, and that FBI agent, who tried to get out, is number twentyfive. He hopes that the jury is picked from the first twenty, he really doesn't want to hear this trial. He can't even beliee he bloody showed up today, but they might get supicious if he hadn't. He clutches his drawing pad to himself tightly, and walks briskly down the hall, hoping the FBI agent is not following him.  
  
He glances over his shoulder, and notices the man standing outside the courtroom, smoking a cigar, and on his cell phone, next to a blue SUV. 'He can't be waiting for me, I am probably not even a suspect, they wouldn't suspect me.' Casey takes a deep breath, and pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket with his free hand. 'I am just going paranoid, I need to act cool.' He slips the sunglasses on his face, and releases his grip a little on his sketch pad, and walks very calmly to his white Jeep Cheerokee. The man watches him, but continues to smoke his cigar, listening intently to the person on the other end of the cell phone. He pulls his keys out, and unlocks the door, all cool like, since he is like James Dean, he climbs in, tossing his sketch pad casually to the passenger seat. He closes the door quickly, realizing his back seat is starting to smell of decay. He shouldn't have left the body in this long. He needs to find some place to dump it quick.  
  
He starts his car,and begins to drive, as if in autopilot. His mind is racing wondering where he can hide the body out. He pulls out of the court room parking lot, wondering if he should fill out the questionaire they handed him, and he had slipped into the sketch pad, on the way out. They had to fill out one already in the courtroom. He didn't have time to really think about that now, He needed to find someplace to dump the body. he might need to wait to dark, but he knows he isn't going to be able to hide the body in his car much longer. He gets an idea, he knows this abandoned firehouse he should leave it around there. he begins driving in that direction.  
(more to come) 


	23. ch.23

Part 23  
Richard gazes around his room, wondering if his father and brother have gone off to work, yet. He probably should go back downstairs and help his mom with the dishes, he doesn't want to seem rude, and for the most part though he has a few happy memories in this house, he feels like a guest. He is not sure why he even came back, but he needed to let Luther, and his mother know about George, he still in a fraction of his being want to make his father proud of him, make him feel like he is one of the family. He has strived for all his life to be accepted, and he is disappointed that he hasn't ever been here.  
His whole life he has searched for someplace where he belonged, and he found that with George, and he wants Luther to see he can be accepted, that everyone doesn't outcast him. He's learned a lot since he met George, and before that gained much wisdom from the fifteen years since he left this house to go out on his own. He has especially learned a lot from being in this relationship at first, he has learned how to allow someone to see his true self 99.999% of the time. The only person in this house who cared what Richard thought, and who he was, was his mother, and he has always longed for his Luther and Chris to see that, he doesn't want to have to hide behind a mask so he is accepted. He hates doing that, and doesn't really understand why as a society people feel they must do that, because they do not want to suffer rejection, -or- are afraid to let anyone in on their lives.  
He knows he probably should have tried to talk longer with Geo, but he needed to try this way to acceptance on his own. He couldn't have Geo to lean on; when he wanted his family to see the beauty that is Geo. It would be nice, but it would be too quick for them to accept, if Geo was here, he knows his father, since he is aware in some aspects he is a lot like him, and he can't just push his father in the waters of his life, he has to gently glide him. He knows that his father would try and drown himself if pushed into the waters; since that was just the way his mind works. He takes a deep breath, and releases the pillow he had been holding on to, knowing it is not going to do him any good, it is not a crutch. He is also aware that getting his father, and Chris to see, will definitely take longer than the five days he will be here for, and his father may never understand, but he can't stand back, and not try and get him to see, and try and be accepted.  
Luther would not even consider listening to him, if he did not at first try to explain it to him. His father felt he was a reasonable man and it was reasonable to allow everyone to say their say, though it didn't seem like it at times. He had to present it like it was a contractor's presentation, -or- something in similar terms to it, something his father could relate to. He was sure he would be able to let his father listen, he had always dabbled in acting and theatre, and all it would be require would be to put on a mask, though he would hate himself for it. Once he got home, he is sure George would be understanding and help him forget that he had to resort to something so vile. He had to get him to listen though, he had to get him to see how wonderful Geo was, and that he has been one of the best things that happened to him. He is not the spineless coward Luther had once accused him of being, because he had been. He was a better person, a smarter person, and a stronger person, and most of this was because George had inspired him to be.   
He knew in the beginning of the relationship, he tried to hold things back to drift away from George, because in most of his relationships he had just learned to do that, because the fear of being hurt was so strong in him. It wasn't until Richard's fifth and final affair in the relationship, the way that Richard noticed that George didn't comment about it, -or- explode, -or- banish Richard out of his apartment, but just sat Richard down, and apologized for anything he had done to turn him away so many times. He wanted to apologize for being so distant, but this was so new to him, and he was scared, he didn't want to do things wrong. It had touched Richard so much and thrown him for a loop, and any doubt about him having pressured George into the relationship, and that he didn't need to try and get close to George, vanished. Richard had just sat there stunned, unsure what to say. He had in fact been the one who was pulling the seams apart, and George had been trying to mend it. George needed someone to be there, and he felt he had pressure Richard into settling down, but his life had been so messed up, George desperately needed sameness, he needed someone to be there for him, which was something that he had always tried to avoid. Richard felt more connected to George than he had been, since they both were looking for an anchor, and Richard had always been denying he needed one, and it took George to admit he was trying to avoid that too, in a way, to realize he and George were kindred spirits. He was sure perhaps one day they would move on as lovers, George probably finding a nice female to get married to, and have beautiful kids with, but they would always remain friends. They needed each other, and he wanted his family to see this.  
(more to come) 


	24. ch. 24

Part 24  
  
George stares looks at the new crime scene photo in front of him. They have found a new victim, found in the men's restroom at 'Bowl-a-rama bowling complex.'His eyes trying to remember where he has seen the inscription the killer had scrawled along with the body.He takes a sip of his coffee.  
"It appears he was dead at least twenty four hours, and I think he was driven around while he was dead, but I won't know fully until all the tests are finished." Grace explains to everyone.  
"He is certainly getting bolder, leaving us little messages to find him, though I don't know the significance of the saying." Sam is twirling a pen on top of the table, subconciously, gazing at the pictures on the pull down screen in front of them.  
"Let's bowl tonight, we're going to score tonight. Why the we has the killer found himself a partner?" John asks, sitting at the head of the table, his feet propped on the table, sipping a mug of coffee, a cigar set next to his file, trying to imitate Bailey, but not make it appear so.  
"They're song lyrics." George takes a tentitave sip of his coffee realizing why they are familliar.  
"To what?" Sam asks.  
"A really lame song." Nathan jokes. John gives him a grin.  
"A song entitled "Let's Bowl tonight," a number for Grease 2." George comments.  
"They made a sequel to that movie." John rolls his eyes, not believing they could possibily do something so horrific.Then, realizes he is suppose to be Bailey, and Bailey would not roll his eyes he would groan. It doesn't suprise him, that George knows something unusual like that anymore, as it had done when he first met George.  
"I liked that musical, John." Grace comments, feeling she should defend it.  
"Can you tell us a little about it, George?" Sam says, interuppting before there was an argument.  
"Sure, " He types something into the computer. "Released on the big screen in 1982, started Michelle Pffier, Maxwell Caulwell, Lorna Luft, Adrian Zmed, and Peter Frechette." He says, as he randomly brings up some pictures on the screen. "Not as big a sucess as the first movie, and the premise is basically the same, except it is the guy who is trying to be accepted by the T-birds, and wants to win one of the pink ladies' hearts, and it has to do with motorcycles, instead of spruced up cars."  
"That guy looks like you, George!" Grace comments.   
"Which guy?" He asks supicious.  
"Nevermind, I must be losing my mind. I was thinking that Peter Frechette guy looks like you, but he's much handsomier.Don't you think, Sam?" Grace chuckles.  
"Yes, much." Sam smiles slightly.  
George looks at your picture. He shakes his head. "Whatever," he mutters, not seeing any simillarities between him and the picture.  
"What is this fourth grade, we need to get back on track." John says, and a somewhat deeper voice.  
Everyone at the table, but John cracks up.  
"Children, children, let's get to work!" John glares at them all, giving them a 'I-am-Bailey-Malone-do-what-I-say!' stare.  
"But daddy we weren't finish building our fortress out of legos." George comments with a straight face, and mock pleading eyes.  
John glares at him. "Why would he leave us song lyrics, Sam?"  
"I don't know, could you get me the full lyrics to the song, and the dialogue for that scene with the number, George, maybe I can figure out why." Sam says, glancing again at the message which is now again on the screen.  
"Sure, it will take a few minutes."  
Sam nods her head."I think we can narrow our search a little more though, he's obviously musical."  
"He's a bowler, too, you have to sign a membership to even get into that place." Nathan comments.  
"Okay, Nathan, why don't you go finish the bowling alley interviews, and see if you can get the surveillance camera tapes, and such, after the briefing,Grace finish the forensics, I get some more of the university interviews done, and Sam try and figure out who this guy is. George get on the lyrics, and whatever else Sam needs, plus finish up those disks, and harddrives, and gives us the stats on the latest victim before we conclude this briefing." John commands.He likes should be left in charge more often, he likes this role.  
"Okay, Micheal Adkins, 19, freshman at the college, born and raised in Melbourne,fl, member of the chorus and drama departments.No criminal record.Worked at a Bartender, part time at Little Jo's Ponderosa..."Sam interuppts."Wait, stop there, George, didn't Mckinley work at the same place."  
George nods.  
"Employee records, asap, Georgie. The rest of you know your duties, this briefing is closed, reported back here at 8 p.m. for the next briefing." John says, swinging his feet down, and watches as everyone else but George, and Sam scatter to their assignments, and then he leaves the command center.  
(more to come) 


	25. ch.25

Part 25  
Bailey closes his eyes, taking a long deep breath, wondering if he should go ahead and go back to work. He had been recessed for the rest of the day, now, since the lawyers had to haggle over which jurors would make up the jury. He was a little upset that the judge would not let him out of the selection process. He was juror number 25 so chances were he would not get picked an he felt that having to continue through the process was worthless, and he had lives to make sure weren't being killed by this new serial killer. He had flashed his badge, and he felt he had given the judge a very persuasive speech, but the judge would not hear of it. He places the cold glass against his forehead for a moment, and let some of the condensation drip between his eyes. He pulls the glass away from his face, and takes a long draw off the refreshing amber coloured liquid. He had called into work a few minutes after they had been released, and George had said everything was fine, and he should try and enjoy the rest of the day, they would call him if they felt he needed some stress.  
He takes another sip from the glass, finishing it off, work didn't really stress him out, it actually calmed him. He knew George had good intentions, though, and was looking out for his best intrests.Bailey would prefer to be at work, though, trying to help solve this case. It wasn't as if he didn't trust the team, they were all very capable, and a part of him deep down, knew they were all doing a fine job, and could manage a few days on their own. Everything in the past few months since Frances had caused him to be under a lot of stress. He knew she was trying, and he was proud that she was trying. She just had a way to be difficult, she still thought at times he had only ever thought of her as a check that needed to be addressed in the mail. They both were having to struggle to get things to work, though he wished he had been able to spend more time with her. He had fought to gain custody of her and Arianna, and it broke his heart that his parenting skills had become a little dilapidated since the divorce.  
He looks deep into the bottom of the shot glass, and wonders if he should get another shot. He doesn't need it, he knows. He sets the counter on the liquor cabinet, vowing to put it away later, and takes his cell phone out of his pocket. He starts to dial the number for work, and stops dialing before he reaches the last number. They should be fine, he is aware he has a problem with taking other people's fall-outs, and troubles on himself. He just can't stand to see people have a lot of stress, -or- be in grief. His nature is one of caring, and he can't let people go through things he feels they don't deserve to go through. He can't stand to see with burdens, though he couldn't really fine someone to release his burdens, too. 


	26. ch. 26

Part 26  
  
  
Rupert Argent walks toward the coffee supply, and wonders if they have replaced it, yet. He, notices George Fraley sitting at his computer, he wonders if he should go ask him again about the research budget. He watches George take a sip of coffe, not looking up, looking intently at what was on the computer. Argent smiles to himself, and he takes something out of his pocket, and pulls out the new bag of coffeebeans. He sniffs the wonderful aroma, and feels its a shame to waste such nice Columbian coffee, but how else will he get the leading team to listen to him, when he needs to discuss the budget with them. They think that the VCTF has unlimited funds sometimes.  
He holds the tea bag above the coffeebeans, and begins tearing a small puncture, with a manicured fingernail, into the teabag. He hears footfalls behind him, and turns to see John, and the intern Santiago, deep into discussion about to get some coffee.  
"What are you up to Argent?" John asks, noticing the tea bag in the accoutant's hand. His eyebrows raise in an arch.  
"Nathing." The accountant drawls, giving them both a smile.  
"Do me a favour, Julie, George over there isn't paying attention, can you take this to him," he takes the tea bag out of his hand, "Ask him if they are mint tea leaves." He places it in between two of her deep red painted fingerprints.  
Julie gives John a big smile, a small row of white teeth showing between lipstick that matches her fingernails. She brushes back a few strands of blond hair with the other hand. "Sure, John." She says in a voice, suggesting they were becoming more than co-workers. She walks seductively over towards George. John and Rupert watching every stride of her nice frame.  
She sits down next to George,"Mr. Fraley?"  
He turns toward her, "Yes?"  
"J..Mr. Grant wants to know if the contents of this tea bag are mint tea leaves." She places the tea bag on the table next to the computer.  
He picks up the tea bag, and pulls out one of the leaves and rubs it gently between two fingers. "It looks like it." He says, and sniffs it, just too be sure. "Yep, its defentily mint." He hands her back the tea bag.  
She takes it gently from his hand. "Thank you."  
George nods, and turns back to his computer.  
"So, why were you putting mint leaves in the coffeebeans." John says, grabbing hold of Argent's collar, and pulling the Bostonian down towards the table, and pushing him into a seat. He is not really mad at the accountant, and means in no way to harm him, but he wants to hear the explination for this.  
As he is doing this Grace and Sam come into the room. "What's going on?" Grace asks.  
"Remember the evil person, you and George metioned?" John asks.   
George looks up from his computer at the metion of his name."What evil person?" George's eyes take on a confused look.  
"Think George, I just had you verify whether what Julie was holding was mint tea leaves, -or- not. Mr. Argent here is the one who put the mint leaves in the coffeebeans." John places a hand on Argent's shoulders.   
Argent scowls. "I am not evil."  
"Why would you ruin our coffee?" Grace asks, sitting next to him, and glaring at him.  
"I shauldn't hove to explain my octions." Argent drawls.  
"Yes, you do." Grace arches one of her eyebrows.  
"I wonted everyone to not be alert when I tolked to them, I guess." Argent tries to give her a smile.  
"Look, we are aware at times how tight the budget is, you don't need to keep reminding us! Now, Get out of here!" John commands the accountant.  
The Bostonian is about to say something when George says something before he gets a chance.  
"We're down to three suspects now." He says, and brings them up on screen. "Ryan Blucker, Casey Mccorkle, and Danny Luna." He says, bringing the pictures on screen with a few strokes on the keys.  
"Casey Mccorkle, bring his file up." Sam gazes with slightly titled head at the photos.  
"Casey Mccorkle, age 21, university student, member of the University Jazz, and symphonic bands, artist, works at Little Jo's ponderosa...."   
"Does he have a class now?" Sam asks.  
"Give me a second, " George types quickly into the computer. "No, he has asked to take a leave of absence from the school for a few days, as he has been selected for jury duty. They've let out for the day already, Bailey called about twenty minutes ago, to see what was going on."  
"We could probably set a trap for him, tomorrow. But we need a plan first..." John says more to everyone, than to George. He has a gleam of an idea in his blue eyes.  
(more to come.) 


	27. ch.27

Part 27  
12:00 a.m.  
  
The swing sways softly under him as he rocks gently. He tosses the coins softly next to him with a sigh. One of the coins slips through the spaces between the pieces of the swing and falls softly to the floor. He lets it stay there, not carrying for the coins anymore.He turns frontward, and gazes out. He hears footsteps on the porch behind him, very soft, and very faint, like the feet were encased in satin slippers. He doesn't turn in the direction of the sound, just sits staring ahead at nothing.  
The figure sits next to him on the screen, making sure not to sit on the coins still on the swing. "What are you up to, Richard?" Lucille asks her son softly, gazing frontward, wondering what he is thinking about. She places a hand softly on his knee.  
"I was asking the Iching something.But I never was really into it. I just like throwing the coins, sometimes." He chuckles a little.He pats her hand.  
"What is the Iching?"   
"It's a chinese philosophy, you toss coins, and depending on where they land, they tell you your destiny, its kind of hard to explain. I found out about it from a friend of mine, he's into a lot of religions, and..."  
"You were trying to find yourself?"   
"Yeah, he taught me a lot of them, but it wasn't really a religion I found that helped me find myself. God is still part of my life, but not organized religion, and something else...."  
They swing in silence for a few minutes. "Did George help you find yourself?"  
"Yes, he did, in his own way, I was never really sure where I belonged, I know I don't belong in this house."   
"I know, I am sorry, that you don't. I wish things could be different."  
"I don't think you belong here either, Mom, " He shifts his gaze toward her. "I think you should divorce him, and take up your paintings again, you shouldn't have to deal with this existence anymore, he rarely lets you out of the house. You should stand..."  
She notices the shift in his gaze, and adjusts hers.She notes the anger searing up in her son's usual calm voice. "Richard, that is not the solution. I am actually lucky than a lot of people, he doesn't abuse me physically, and he rarely says a harsh word to me. He knows what is best for me.Your father has tried the best he could to make sure this family never sunk into poverty. I know he has a temper sometimes, and I am sorry he takes it out on you."  
Richard frowns. "I think he killed your spirit in away though, Mom, I mean when he married you, he said it was okay to finish your paintings but you never..."  
"Dear, he didn't kill my spirit, he just had me forestall a bit of my dreams, but it was understandable. I am painting again. I am aware he took it out on you when you started getting into art, and painting, and he shouldn't have. But he doesn't understand that, he has never been a passionate man, and he's too stubborn to admit he doesn't understand something."  
He stops patting her hand and turns frontward again once more. He isn't sure what to say. He bites his lip, trying to think.  
They swing in silence for a few minutes.   
"Do you have a picture of George?"  
He turns to her again. "Yes, in my wallet, would you like to see it."  
She nods.  
He pulls out his tan wallet out of his back pocket, and opens it to the middle, where there is a section of pictures. The first one is a nice shot of George in a tuxedo in their apartment, he had been getting ready to attend an award's banquet in Sam's honor, and Richard had made him get ready a few hours early so he could take a picture, before he had to go to a conference. He hands the wallet to his mother.   
She takes it gently, and studies the photograph. "He is very handsome, and from what you describe he seems like a very nice person."  
"He is..." He pauses for a moment. "You aren't upset that I didn't find some nice woman, I know you wanted to have a lot of grandchildren..."  
"I am not disappointed, I want only for you and Christopher to be happy. And I don't have lots of grandchildren, but I do have one."  
Richard frowns a little.   
"How is Leila, anyway?"  
"I don't really know, I have been meaning to check on her and Sandy, but..."  
"Not every person is cut out for parenthood."  
"George is,...He is always calling Leila on her birthday and holidays, -or- reminding me to, but..." He stops and frowns.  
She pats his knee. "It's okay dear, I am sure you try your best."  
(more to come) 


	28. ch 28

Ch. 28  
7 am  
John Grant paces the hallway of the courtroom, waiting for the honorable Judge J. Thomas to show up. He is actually glad when the judge had been called last night he had agreed to be involved in this sting operation. John knew for a fact it sounded a little silly, but Bailey had left him in charge and he liked this idea, he had a feeling it was going to work, and no one would get hurt.  
He hears someone softly approaching him down the other end of the hallway, and turns to face George in a white flowing robe, carrying two stryofoam coffee cups. "Thought you'd might like some untainted coffee." He gives John a friendly smile.  
"You look funny." John cracks a smile, as he glances down towards George's birkenstock sandels.  
"Yes, I know, I figured this was why you picked this plan, so we all look like idiots."  
They share a laugh. "Not exactly." John takes a cup of coffee out of one of George's hand, with his right hand and brings the aroma in delightfully. "What kind of coffee is this, it smells great."  
"It's from Belgium. I stole it out of the pantry when I took the mint tea bags, I figured it would be the only way some of us would stay awake." He smiles. He takes a long sip of his coffee.  
John laughs. "So, how many tea bags were you able to get?"  
"Well, Rich buys them by the bulk, and he had a box he hadn't got into yet, so about 300."  
John nods, thinking in his head that they hopefully will not need all of those tea bags. "So, did Grace and I bring enough coffee then."  
"Probably, I mean didn't you buy out the grocery store."  
They hear loud foorsteps behind them, and they both turn. A man in his mid sixties with white hair streaming behind him, approaches them. "Agent Grant?" He questions, arching a white eyebrow.   
"I am agent Grant, thank you so much for allowing us to perform this sting operation in your courtroom." John extends his left hand.  
The judge gives him a friendly handshake. "Contary to what your superior, Mr. Malone, probably thinks right now, I hate to see these murdering types on the street."  
"Why did you keep him on the jury selection, then?" George asks, taking another sip of his coffee.  
"This is Agent Fraley, he likes to be a part of everything." John gives the Judge a smile.  
"That's certainly okay, I will answer your question, I really dislike lawyers, I even admited that when I was one, and I like throwing them little games there way, like what their reaction would be if I left Malone on the jury selection." The judge gives a hearty chuckle, and winks at George. He turns serious, then. "The baliffs have all been warned, now, we just need to wait for everyone to start arriving, and your crew to finish the coffee."  
"They should..."  
"We finished before I came over here, but you need to get into your costume, John."  
John sighs. "I better go get ready then, the fun should be starting any minute now, nice meeting you judge." John walks off to go get into his Hare Krishna robes.  
"Do I know you from somewhere, Agent Fraley?" The judge asks turning back towards George.  
"I am not sure."  
"Oh, I know, you have a friend who works at Langley Design, he's an architect." The Judge getting a gleam of reconition in his eye.  
"My roommate, yes."  
"Ahh, well, good day, I hope all goes well." The judge departs. 


	29. ch 29

part 29  
entry in John Grant's journal  
  
10 am   
I felt really stupid wearing these Hare Krishna robes, I am trying to remember why I had this idea. It was a good idea at the time, I just didn't realize the attire would be so uncomfortable, I almost feel naked in nothing but a robe, and my undies. The Birkenstocks that we had planned for me to wear did not fit at all, so I had to walk around barefoot.The marble floor is very cold in that courtroom. I shouldn't really complain, this whole thing was my idea.  
The potential jurors started filing into the courtroom around 7:50. Some were suprised to see "Hare Krishnas" miling around in the courtroom, offering them coffee, and trying to get them to buy paper flowers.   
Flowers which had taken us three hours to construct last night. I can understand why George brought us real coffee, I think he was about to fall asleep, he has been living on coffee for a few days, I think he has barely gotten two hours of sleep since this whole case started. I feel bad I was suppose to make sure everyone got home to get some rest, and I did try, I just never expected so much work for him, and especially Bailey coming over to watch Casablanca.Though I see that as kind of funny, and it doesn't suprise me, Bailey would track down the person who rented that movie, so he could watch it. I am degressing though.  
at about 8:10 our suspect, one Casey McCorkle, had arrived. He was a little freaked out by this. I think a lot of the people were. You usually see the Hare Krishna trying to collect money for the peace at the airport. So, what a suprise it had to have been for them to be trying to get money at a courtroom. It was great though, a really beautiful plan. I am sorry everything didn't work out like I had wanted it to.  
What was suppose to happen was that we were going to block entrance into the courtroom, trying to get money. The judge was suppose to protest. Our "lawyer" Ali baba, played by Nathan, was going to start a whole speech about how we had rights to assemble here, as it was a public place.  
Then the accountant, I made Argent do it, was suppose to announce we had done polls and the charts said this was the best place to collect money.  
(We were able to get a bunch of people to drink the coffee we had laced with mint tea, explaining it brought out vitality, -or- some other hogwash, that George, Sam, and Grace had created about 1 am this morning.)  
What really happened at 8:20 we were about to start to barricade the courtroom, but our suspect was given a cup of coffee by Sam, and started freaking out. He drop the cup, and took straight off for the door, managing to trip George, and landing right into Bailey, who was just entering the courtroom. He then broke down crying and confesssed everything, and Bailey cuffed him.  
It took about an hour to explain it to Bailey, and to apologize to any potiential jurors that did not find this fiassco funny, and we went back to the VCTF to interrogate the perp, and to write the reports.  
Speaking of which I hear Bailey coming to see how far along I am on mine, I better get started.  
-John  
P.s. George was hurt a little when he got tripped, but will be okay, so, I don't feel so bad about having him as a character for the sting, and he has already told me it was okay, he did sort of volunteer. He doesn't always like sitting in the surveillance van. 


	30. Final :No more Coffee

Final  
3 pm  
  
Richard stares out the window, relieved that the last few days are over. He is also glad that Christopher has agreed to stay out of Atlanta for a few weeks. Richard knows is nothing he did, but thanks God for having one of the guy's Luther works with offering him a job.He knows George will be safe for at least a little while.  
He unbuckles the belt, and pulls out his over head luggage from the compartment, glad he is home in Atlanta.   
The stewardess smile to him, as well as the other passengers, as everyone makes their way out of the airplane. He heads towards the gate, and the luggage compartment to grab his other suitcase. He is met by a gentleman with black shades on his eyes, wearing a fedora on his head, holding his other suitcase."Mr. Warren I presume." The man answers in a mock british voice.  
"Geo, you are so cute." Richard brings him into a deep hug, making him drop Richard's other bag, and his hat, and is about to kiss George on the lips, but George's turn his head slightly.  
"You're getting a bit too rambuncious for my taste, right now."  
Richard detaches himself from him,"I'm sorry, I know your rule about no public displays of affection, I know it makes you uncomfortable..." Richard frowns a little.  
"I love you, babe. I know you're sorry, you were just through a rough few days, I know, I am sorry, your father can't except you." He pulls Richard back into a hug, and kisses the top of his head softly.  
Richard looks up and gives him a little smile, and bends over to pick up the bag George dropped, and his hat."You're the best, doll. ...Where did you get this hat from?"  
"Bailey let me borrow it, but I have to give it back tomorrow. How about we go home, I am exhausted, and feel like catching a little catnap."  
Richard slips the sunglasses off George's eyes. "You look tired, dear, let's go home.Wait how did you get here?" Richard slips the sunglasses into his pocket, his brown eyes shine a bit curious on through the glasses on his own face, not thinking George would risk having both of their vehicles here if he was so tired.  
George slips the bags and hats out of Richard's hands. He begins walking towards the parking lot. "Bailey dropped me off,...So, how'd you figure it was me."  
"Your black sweater, and your cute little green shirt, you looked exactly the same except the sunglasses and the hat were a very cute touch." Richard walks along side him, happily.  
"I was going to try to wear something else, but I didn't feel like changing three times today." He turns his head slightly towards his roommate, watching him with a smile in his eye.  
"Three times,what do you mean, doll?"Richard holds the glass doors open for George, and they begin walking to Richard's red SUV.  
"It's a long story, you sure you want to hear it."  
"Why don't we wait till later, I am ready for a long nap, and I am sure you are, too. Unless you want to get some coffee..."  
"No, I am tired of coffee for awhile. Oh, and also, I had to borrow about half of your mint tea bags."  
"For what?"  
"I'll explain later, just to make a long story short never mix mint tea leaves with coffeebeans."  
Richard gives his roommate a confused look. George gives him a 'you'll understand later' smile, and they unlock Richard's Suv, tossing the bags into the backseat, and heading home.  
  
End Note: Thank you for reading. 


End file.
